My fortnightly affair

Waiting for my turn with the local barber. This one is in Lucky Garden.

There's this little charm with the local Indian barbers which is hard to explain. I remember going to the barber next to Raju's PJ on the last Sunday of every month, with my dad and brother. That was fun also because we got fed a good meal, right after.

I used to always leave the barber with a random hair style. Most of the barbers are from South India, so their command of every language besides Tamil is limited to: short, straight, line, and side burns. If you didn't say any of this, you'd probably leave the place looking like Rajnikanth - Basha / The Boss, you get to pick.

A few months ago my brother taught me a new trick. Upon sitting, just say (with hand gestures): machine, 4 on top, 2 on the sides. Close my eyes, and within 15 minutes, I'm done with a style that would make any GI proud.

It's my turn now. For 12 bucks, the occasional blade mishaps, blunt scissors, and Tamil music - Indian barbers rock!